


Remembrance

by Dancingsalome



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Consensual Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/pseuds/Dancingsalome
Summary: Sophie de Clermont has fled Versailles, with nowhere to go and only her memories for company.The warnings reference events in the show. Takes place after season 2.





	1. Prologue

Sophie woke up to her husband's hands tearing her nightdress, his body pressing her down into the bed. She struggled against him, and he laughed, only growing more eager by her fear. Sophie twisted this way and that, one of her hands broke free, and she reached out for her mother.

“Help me”, she pleaded, wondering why her mother was just standing there as if she couldn’t see the man violating her daughter. “Mother, make him stop. Please!”

Beatrice suddenly took a step forward, pressing a small flask into her daughter’s hand. Sophie didn’t want it, she knew what it contained, but when she opened her lips to protest, Cassel’s mouth was upon her’s, suffocating her. When the kiss broke, her mother was gone, but to Sophie’s relief Thomas was there instead. His hands closed around Cassel’s throat, but as Thomas choked him, it was Sophie who couldn’t breathe. It felt like she was drowning, she fought desperately for air, and she was awake. Gasping she sat up in bed, stifling the cry which tried to break free, then she realised it had been a nightmare, and she was alone. All alone. Her mother was long gone, and now both her husband and lover were dead too.

Sophie lay down again, turning to her side and curling up into a tight ball, willing herself not to cry The nightmare was not a new one, it had plagued her every night since her flight from Versailles, and she knew she would not sleep more tonight. Wide awake her thoughts invariably went to her current situation, and what she was to do next.

Panic had made her flee Versailles, and when she had calmed down enough to realise it had been a foolish thing to do, it had been too late to return. If she had remained calm she would have been safe; Fabien Marchal had told her so. She could have taken her place as an honourable widow at court, her secrets safe with him. But she had fled from the dead body of a spy, and she could not believe Fabien would still protect her, not now.

The first few hours of her flight she had just let her horse run, her only thought to put as much ground between her and Versailles as was possible.When she had paused, Sophie had strained her ears after pursuers, but she heard nothing. When she was too tired to ride she had rested in the woods, cold and miserable, and with a growing alarm over her actions. At daybreak she had found a road, and eventually a village with an inn. Sophie had been keenly aware of the odd glances she was given; a noblewoman did not travel alone, but she put up her chin and treated everyone so haughty no one questioned her. Every time she had heard horses in the yard she had expected Fabien, but no one came. The next day she hired a man to escort her to the next small town where she had found a room to rent from an old widow. And here she had remained.

What else could she do? Sophie had no idea what to do next. She had nowhere to go. Thomas had intended to take her to the court of William of Orange, but without him she was not sure she would be welcomed. What interest could the Prince have in her; she didn’t even have any information to trade. And she would not want to. Despite everything that had happened to her, she was still a Frenchwoman, and she was not a traitor.

But she dared to go back to Versailles and face the King’s wrath, so her only choice was to stay were she was. For now, because it could only be a temporary solution. Sophie’s purse had not been well-filled when she left, and the money was dwindling rapidly. When her few coins were gone, Sophie would have nothing. Cassel had been impoverished a long time ago, and the dowry the King had given her had been squandered as well. Perhaps there was something settled for her widowhood, but to claim it she would have to return to Versailles. Without family and without skills, the only thing Sophie possessed now were her youth and her beauty. She could put a price on her body, but the thought of letting yet another man use her, made her feel sick. But soon, very soon she must decide what to do.

Over and over again Sophie went through her limited options. At dawn she rose, still without an answer. She got dressed and made sure her little room was neat and tidy. Then the whole day lay ahead of her, with nothing to do but to fill it with her thoughts. Tired of trying to find a resolution to her dilemma, Sophie tried to find comfort in her memories of Thomas instead. But his voice was already faint, and when she tried to remember his face, the outline of him seemed vague. What kind of woman was she if she could forget her love so quickly? Miserable, Sophie tried to remember their first dance, the first kiss, but unbidden her thoughts only conjured up the visage of another man; Fabien Marchal.


	2. Fabien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lines of dialouge are lifted from the show.

_“Pack up your affairs and get out. You have no place here.”_

_Fabien Marchal’s anger felt like blows, but Sophie couldn’t understand why he was raging at her. She knew about him, everyone at court did, and she knew he admired her mother, but he had never spoken to her before. And now he was in her room, screaming at her, before rushing out, leaving a stunned Sophie to stare at the door._

_Her mother gone? How could she be gone? Beatrice had left their room with no indication of going away. And why had it made Monsieur Marshal so angry? Sophie frowned, thinking hard, but then she brightened. Her mother could be too frank at times, no doubt she had said something which had irritated the King. Right now she must be on her way to a convent, to await the King’s forgiveness. It had happened to ladies at court before, and usually the King’s forgiveness came within a few months. It would explain Monsieur Marshal’s outburst too; it must ire him if a woman he admired annoyed the King. There would be a letter from her mother soon, explaining everything, and until she returned, Sophie could do as she liked._

_Sophie smiled. This was an unexpected opportunity. If she and Benoit got married while her mother was away, Beatrice would have to accept the fact when she returned. But when Sophie relayed her plans to him, Benoit didn’t seem the least delighted._

_“We can’t get married.”_

_“What? But you said-”_

_“I can’t afford a wife. And even if I did, I need a woman who can work. You are useless.” Benoit looked with contempt at Sophie’s white hands, which he had always been so eager to kiss. “Have you even carried something heavier than a carafe of wine? You would be nothing but a burden.”_

_And then he left her, and for the second time in a few hours, Sophe was left in confusion. Benoit’s rejection hurt, and suddenly she felt a little worried. Perhaps she would be sent to a convent now too, which would be dreadfully boring. But perhaps Fabien Marchal could help her? He might be angry at her mother right now, but when Beatrice came back he would want to be in her favour again. If he protected Sophie, Beatrice would be pleased._

Here Sophie was disturbed in her reminiscences by her landlady who entered with the morning meal. Sophie shook her head, smiling over how little she had understood then. She had still been a child, happily secure no one would want to harm her. When she come to Fabien with her proposition he had thought her courageous, but Sophie knew it had not been courage, but ignorance. She had not understood how desperate her situation had been, and she had continued to treat it like a game until she had found herself interrogated about Madame’s sudden illness.

_Sophie sat in the chair opposite Monsieur Marshal, feeling annoyed. He had promised to take care of her, and now she sat here and had to endure endless questions about such trivial things as tea preparations. She didn’t understand the fuss, even is she was sorry for Madame. The Princess stomach pains were not something new, she had suffered from them for years, even if she had not been this ill before._

_Sophie’s annoyance made her impertinent, and she felt a certain satisfaction over Monsieur Marchal’s growing irritation. Heedlessly she let the conversation veer into a path she knew, deep down, was a dangerous one._

_“I do not have a life. My mother lied to me about who I was, so I have no idea who I truly am.”_

_“You are the daughter of a Huguenot conspirator, funded and supported by William of Orange.”_

_“My mother has paid for her treachery. I am merely trying to survive. I thought I had your protection.”_

_“Unless you are more like your mother than you admit.”_

_“Make no mistake, Monsieur Marchal, my mother fooled many people with her treachery, but you were the biggest fool of all.”_

_As soon as she said it, Sophie knew she had gone too far. She had barely registered exactly what Fabien Marchal had said about her mother as she found it completely incomprehensible, but now, belatedly, she understood. Cold fear seized her, but Monsieur Marchal only looked at her, his face betraying no emotions._

_“Who prepared her tea?”_

_This time Sophie answered. “I did.”_

_To her surprise she was dismissed, and Sophie fled back to her room, her mind in turmoil. The full meaning of Monsieur Marchal’s word was now clear; her mother was dead. She would never come back, would never scold or caress Sophie again. And she had died because she was a traitor. And if Beatrice had conspired against the King, perhaps they would think Sophie was a traitor too._

_Sophie’s legs certainly deserted her, and she sank down on the floor. Of course they would think so; hadn’t Monsieur Marchal said something along those lines? Had she not been questioned, only just now, questions which indicated they thought Madame had been poisoned. And it was Sophie who had prepared the tea. For the first time in her short and pampered life, Sophie was afraid. Why Monsieur Marchal had not already arrested her she could not understand, but it was surely only a matter of time._

_Sophie spent the night on her knees, praying for Madame’s health, and her mother’s soul. The days which followed she spent in agony, every sound making her jump, fearing she would hear the sound of heavy boots coming for her. But nobody came. The news of Madame’s death reached her, and Sophie cried for the Princess who had always been good to her, but still no one came. The court went into mourning, and Sophie went through the motions as if she was in a dream. She had not seen Monsieur Marchal since he had questioned her, and she both dreaded seeing him again, and wanting it to be over._

_When she was finally summoned, she was so by a note, not by the company of a pair of grim-faced soldiers. Sophie dressed carefully, but not even a thick layer of powder couldn’t hide her eyes, red and swollen from crying, and the dark circles around them._

_There had been rumors that Monsieur Marchal had been wounded in service of the King, but he seemed his usual contained self. He looked at grief ravaged face without sympathy and motioned at her to sit down. Sophie only dared to give him a quick glance before she looked down on her hands folded in her lap and waited._

_“Mademoiselle de Clermont, you put yourself in my service, but so far I have had nothing from you but insolence.”_

_“I know,", Sophie said meekly. “I should not have said what I did. I-”_

_“You acted in a rash and thoughtless manner.”_

_Sophie nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”_

_Then she couldn’t suppress her fear and blurred out. “Are you going to arrest me now?”_

_“Why would I do that?”_

_“I thought- I thought you suspected me of Madame’s death.”_

_“I always knew you were innocent. You were never under suspicion.”_

_The sudden relief made Sophie feel dizzy, and for a moment she thought she would cry from pure relief She was not a suspect, she didn’t have to worry anymore, but she still felt bewildered._

_“But if you knew, why did you interrogate me?”_

_“Yes, why?”_

_Sophie frowned. At first she couldn’t think what he meant, but then she understood._

_“Because if you didn’t, people would wonder why. And you don’t want people to know I work for you.”_

_“Exactly. But are you going to work for me? I need to be assured of your respect and obedience, or I will have no use for you.”_

_Sophie felt another frisson of fear. She needed Monsieur Marchal; if he decided she was worthless, she would have no one else to turn to._

_“I will do my best, I promise.” She raised her head and looked at him, hoping Monsieur Marchal would understand she was in earnest. ”But I don’t know how to do what you want.”_

_“Very well.” His face softened a little. “I will teach you what you need.”_

_And to her, and probably also Fabien’s, surprise, they got along. He seemed to recognise Sophie's honest desire to please him, and in return Fabien was unexpectedly patient with teaching her the skills she needed. At first Sophie found it difficult, no one had ever demanded of her to pay attention and analyse what she learned, but little by little she found it an unexpected thrill gathering useful information._

_She grieved her mother, and it was hard to reconcile with the fact her sharp-tongued but loving mother had not only conspired against the King, but had also been a murderess. Fabien eventually told her everything, including his own role in Beatrice’s death, and how she had tried to kill him. It was hard for Sophie, sometimes she felt she ought to hate Fabien, then she thought she hated her mother. In the end she decided to try to look forward instead. She had loved her mother, but she needed Fabien_

_As Sophie got to know him better, she stopped being afraid of him. At first she had found his looks coarse and his manners brusque, but over time she came to appreciate his direct manner. At court people never said what they meant, but Fabien never hesitated to tell her what he thought, being good or bad, and she learned to trust him. And though he never acknowledged her in public, he, or one of his men, always turned up if a courtier became too insistent in his attentions than Sophie enjoyed, and it made her feel safe and protected. Over time she came to appreciate how he looked as well. When she looked past the severeness of his dress, she noticed how handsome he was, and he didn’t need rich fabrics and lavish decorations to enhance it._

_For some time life was good for Sophie. She had more freedom than ever before, and when the King publicly treated her with a few kind words, no one remembered how she had been interrogated when Madame died. Then Monsieur asked her to become his new wife’s lady, and Sophie’s position at court became as solid as before. The new Madame was funny and forthright, and the two girls friendship was quickly cemented._

_All was well until the horrible the day the King announced Sophie was to marry the Duke of Cassel. As soon as she heard it, Sophie looked at Fabien, and she could see his surprise and dismay. He had not wanted this for her, and despite knowing no one could question the King’s wishes, Sophie could not help imploring Fabien for help. She had got used to him always knowing the what to do, but Sophie looked up into his face he looked as helpless as she felt. Perhaps Fabien could have shielded her from the worst of Cassel’s appetites just by his presence, but when was banished from court, Sophie had been left with no protection at all._

Sophie abruptly stood up. She didn’t want to think of Cassel and of what he had done to her. Desperately she sifted through her memories and latched on to the memory of one of the few who had offered her any help in the nightmare her marriage had proved to be.


	3. Claudine

_Sophie knocked on Doctor Masson’s door and then almost fled before the knock was answered. But the door opened quicker than she had expected, and she stood face to face with Claudine._

_“Come in”, she said, and Sophie found herself in a room unlike any other room she had ever seen. It was clean and tidy, but filled with the most curious objects. Some, Sophie was sure though she didn’t care to look too close, being preserved parts of humans. She found it a bit scary, and had it not been Claudine there, she would have excused herself. But she desperately needed help, and Sophie had always liked Claudine. And Fabien trusted her too. Sophie studied Claudine’s face and to her surprise she realised the doctor was a very pretty woman. She had always thought Claudine ugly in her men’s clothes, but in a blue gown which enhanced the blue of her eyes, and with a few golden curls framing her face, Claudine was charming. And young; she could only be a few years older than Sophie._

_“I’m not sure you remember me”, Sophie began, but Claudine smiled._

_“Of course I do. What can I do to help?”_

_Sophie had rehearsed what she was to say, but now she found it hard to speak. Claudine watched her for a few moments and then put leaves in two cups and fetched boiling water to pour over it. She bid Sophie to sit, and when the tea had finished steeping she sat down opposite her. Sophie inhaled the herbal scent of it, and felt a little calmer. It also felt easier to talk sipping tea like this as she could have done with any friend._

_“Perhaps you know I recently was married?”_

_Claudine nodded._

_“I was a maiden before my marriage, but I knew a little. I knew it would hurt the first time, and that I would bleed.” Sophie shuddered at the memory. “Everyone said it would only hurt a little, but it was horrible. And it’s still horrible. I stopped bleeding after the first few times, but it still so painful. I never imagined anything like it!”_

_Claudine looked concerned. “No, it should not. Tell me; when your husband comes to you, does he caress you, and make you feel you want his attentions?”_

_Sophie couldn’t help laughing, but it was a bitter laugh. “Never.”_

_“Would you mind if I examined you?”_

_“Must you?”_

_“There can be several reasons to why you find it painful, and if I am to help you, I need to know what causes it.”_

_Sophie hesitated, but eventually she nodded. Claudine asked her to lay down on a bed in the corner of the room and pull up her shirts to her knees. Sophie watched her anxiously as Claudine washed her hands and then rubbed a thick layer of salve on her fingers. Her slim hands were gentle as they examined Sophie, and the salve made the process easier but it still hurt. Sophie stared up at the ceiling, holding her breath and clenching her skirts so tightly she had problems opening her hands when the examination was over. When she tried to sit up her whole body was shaking, and she remained sitting on the edge of the bed, unable to stand._

_Claudine's eyes were full of sympathy and instead of urging Sophie to get up she sat down beside her._

_“A woman can sometimes get scarring after a birth, which can cause pain, and I thought it might be one reason of your problems, but it isn’t.”_

_“Why does it hurt so bad then?”_

_“For two reasons, I believe. It’s easy to know when a man is aroused, but for a woman to be eager to lay with a man, she must be aroused too. Her body grows warm and most, her body welcoming a man’s embraces. It should be a pleasure, something to look forward to.”_

_As Claudine spoke her cheeks flushed a little and her eyes looked like stars. With a small pang of jealousy Sophie realised Claudine must have a lover who made her happy._

_“And it doesn’t hurt?”_

_No. The first time, a little, but there should be no pain after. But if your husband doesn’t care for your pleasure, your body remain dry. I will give you a pot of the salve I used for your examination. Use it before your husband comes to you, and it will help a little.”_

_“But not completely?”_

_Claudine frowned. “No. I think you have been so frightened by your husband’s advances your body tene just at the thought of it. I can give you some of the herbal tea you had before; it’s a blend meant to calm and soothe. Perhaps it can help a little. She paused, the continued hesitantly. “I will also give you another salve to use on your bruises; it will make them heal quicker.”_

_Sophie stiffened. She was sure she had kept her skirts down enough to hide the bruises on her thighs, and mostly Cassel made sure to not hit her where it showed. “How did you know?”_

_“By the way you move. A kind of careful stiffness if you want. I have seen it many times before.”_

_Sophie had told no one the full extent of what Cassel did to her. Princess Liselotte knew she was unhappy, and that Cassel was a cruel man, but Sophie had said nothing of what happened between them. She felt no one could look at her without disgust if they knew, but Claudine was a doctor, and suddenly all Sophie’s secrets poured out of her mouth._

_“Oh, I knew he was a wicked man before I had to marry him, but I didn’t know how evil he truly was. I don’t know what to do; I think he finds it exciting to hurt me. I try to be obedient, but it doesn’t help. He hits me when he wants to and he always wants to. I can see it in his eyes, always. And the things he forces me to do; they make me sick.”_

_On and on Sophie talked, not even noticing how tears streamed down her face. Claudine said nothing, only took her and, and Sophie clung to it as she talked until there was nothing more to say. She tried to compose herself, thankful Claudine had not offered help, when no help could be had._

_“I don't know why I tell you all this. You can’t do anything- no one can.”_

_“Sometimes it can be a relief to put words on things. And you are always welcome to come here again.”_

_Claudine offered Sophie a cloth wetted with lavender water and another cup of tea before giving her a small parcel with the ointments and tea she had prescribe. Then she followed Sophie to the door, but just as Claudine opened it she smiled at someone standing in the shadows._

_“Oh, I didn’t know you had returned.”_

_To Sophie’s surprise and shock she saw Fabien Marchal standing there, and she could see he was angry. He took a step towards her, and Sophie fled, certain his anger was directed towards her. Fabien called out her name, but Sophie didn’t look back, and he didn’t pursue her._

_Sophie had not known Fabien was still in Versailles, but now she made use of what he had taught her, and learned quickly he was living with Claudine. No wonder he had been angry then; he must have thought Sophie was there to spy on him. Sophie also felt a curious stab in her heart when she realised it must have been Fabien who made Claudine’s eyes light up like stars. But why should she care if Claudine and Fabien were lovers? Claudine had saved his life, and she was not only pretty but intelligent and kind, it must have been easy for Fabien to fall in love with her. And Sophie couldn’t imagine anyone more different from Beatrice, which certainly was another reason. Different from Sophie herself too, Sophie thought with despair. She knew she was beautiful, but she had no skills out of the ordinary; nothing which could ever tempt Fabien. She wouldn’t want that, of course she didn’t, but still something hurt at the thought. Not that Sophie wanted to. She didn’t want to be someone who begrudged other people happiness only because she had none herself. But Sophie never went back to Claudine’s house. When she needed to renew her salves and tea, she sent her maid instead. Nevertheless she cried in genuine grief when she heard of Claudine’s murder, months later._

Sophie roused herself from her memories. She had not wanted to think of Cassel, but in the end she hadn’t been able to stop those memories. She looked around in the small and cramped room and felt she needed fresh air. Perhaps the wind she could see rustle in the trees outside might blow a little peace her mind.


	4. Cassel

The fresh air brought energy to Sophie’s steps, but the memories followed her out. After being repressed for so long she could no longer escape them. She had hated and feared Cassel since the first day of their marriage, but Sophie had suffered his abuse of months before she had grown desperate enough to try to free herself. And though she hated to think of it, she remembered far too well what had brought her to that point.

_”And do you know what the funny thing was?”_

_Sophie looked at her husband with revulsion. He enjoyed talking to her after he had forced himself on her, telling her about the unhappy women and girls who had suffered him relishing in her distress over those tales. Reluctantly Sophie shook her head. She didn’t want to know more about this poor serving girl Cassel had raped, but he would tell her anyway, and it was better for her if she engaged when he demanded her to._

_“The funny thing was that she was almost certainly my daughter.” Cassel laughed, and soon after he was snoring. Sophie stayed awake long after, sick to her stomach of what she had been told. When she finally fell asleep, her slumber was not peaceful. She dreamt a young girl was standing in front of her. A lovely girl with dark curls and pretty features, so close to her own. Sophie’s heart filled with love, and she reached out her arms, but the girl backed away. Her mouth was swollen and her dress torn, and the look she gave Sophie was full of accusations._

_“Why didn’t you protect me, mother? Why didn’t you keep me safe?”_

_Sophie woke up with a pounding heart. Cassel was a vile man, but surely his depravity would not extend to his own flesh and blood? Only it already had and Sophie felt certain he would not stop only because a child was born into a marriage. So far she had not thought of children apart from feeling relieved every time her monthly bleeding returned. She didn’t want Cassel’s children, but she had never thought of their fate if they were born. The throat frightened her; she was sure she would not be allowed any decisions regarding their upbringing. Daughters who would be raised to be cattle and sons who no doubt would be encouraged to become like their father; cruel and callous._

_Sophie shuddered at the thought. She quietly slipped out of the bed and fell to her knees to pray for guidance and strength. But she found no solace in her prayers; she could only think of all those women and girls who had had no protection against Cassel. Like Sophie herself. But what if she was the last one? The only way she could save any child of her’s was to make certain Cassel could beget no with her. If he was dead, then Sophie would be free, and he would hurt no one else._

_It was a terrible idea. A sinful, wicked idea. In the morning Sophie regretted it, but day by day her life became even more unbearable, and one day she found herself in Madame Agathe’s chambers. Her black eyes looked like polished stones, hard and shining, and she saw everything. Every bad, immoral thought Sophie had had, and then she offered help. It was not brought by kindness or concern, but Sophie took the help. She felt oddly at home with Madame Agathe, but only later did she realise the woman had the same look in her eyes as her mother had had._

_At first, it was such a relief when the poison rendered Cassel unable to rape her. He tried and then hit her when his body failed him, but soon he grew weaker, and the blows came with no strength behind them before they stopped altogether. It remained a relief until the day Sophie came upon Cassel as he bent double, his body shaking from a racking cough. When he looked up at her she saw the blood on his lips, fear in his eyes, and she knew he was dying. And it was all because of her. Sophie had wished him dead so many times, but now she could feel no triumph. Despite the hate and fear he had instilled in her, there was no happiness in success._

_Guilt nagged at her. If it could only continue like this, it would be enough. Sophie detested sleeping beside his stinking body, but as long as he let her be, she could endure. If he lived like this, weak and unable to harm her, then he didn’t need to die. And she wouldn’t be a murderess. Sophie threw away the poison, and buried the small bottle in the garden, despite Madame Agathe telling her it was too late. She tended to Cassel, who seemed puzzled over the care he had not earned, but he never suspected his illness was caused by Sophie. But he declined increasingly, and Sophie knew her actions had changed nothing._

_Thomas had been the only happiness Sophie got during that time. In his arms, she felt something, a longing she recognised from Benoit’s kisses and caresses. But no matter how eager she felt, there was always a point where her body froze. The building pleasure disappeared, and it was all she could do to not break away from the embrace. Thomas never noticed, and Sophie said nothing. After all, she loved him, and he was nothing like Cassel. He could not know of her inability to have any enjoyment out of their lovemaking._

Sophie had walked without purpose, but now she found herself at the river which ran through the small town she had taken refuge in. A stone bridge connected the both sides, and she walked to its highest point. Leaning against the low stone railing, Sophie looked down in the streaming water. It was a mesmerising sight; she leaned even further down. If she fell she would disappear quickly, carried away by the stream. Sophie was not a strong swimmer, she would drown quickly. And would that be so bad? It was a grave sin to end your life, but she had sinned so much already. It would be a relief to not carry those burdens for years and years but instead meet her judgement now. Sophie shifted, feeling her balance growing closer to tip her over the edge. Only a bit more, and she would fall, and it would be over. Unable to move, Sophie stared down as time moved to a stop and she saw and heard nothing else but the water cascades below..

Then a hand closed around her arm and broke the spell. Sophie tumbled forward and for one breathless second, she thought she was falling. Then she was brusquely and painfully yanked back. Panic filled her, Sophie tried to scream but fear made her throat constrict so no sound came from her lips. She tried to twist free, convinced by the painful grip it Cassel who, somehow, was still alive and had come for her. In a flurry of uselessly flailing limbs she was pulled away from the bridge, but when she looked up at the man holding her it was not the watery blue eyes of her husband she saw, but the piercing brown of Fabien Marchal.


	5. Sophie

Sophie gasped; it felt like an effort to do such a simple thing as drawing breath. Her body, with a mind of its own, tried to jerk away from Fabien’s hard grip, at the same time her thoughts frantically told her to calm down. She managed another laboured breath, then an easier third, and she calmed enough to manage to speak.

“Let me go!”

To her surprise Fabien released her, and she took a few quick steps away from him. He didn’t try to stop her, only moved, so he was between her and the bridge. He raised his hand in a calming gesture.

“I am sorry I startled you. But you were leaning so far over the edge I was afraid you would tumble over by my voice alone, and then I wouldn’t have been able to reach you in time.”

Still breathing hard, Sophie nodded. Away from the hypnotising movements of the water, she could only think of how cold it would be to fall into it, and how horrible it would be to drown. Fabien was right even though he had frightened her.

“Have you come to take me back to Versailles?”

“Yes.”

“And then? What will happen to me then?”

“I don’t know. The Princess Palatine wants her lady-in-waiting back, but I don’t know the mind of the King.”

He motioned to her to move and side by side they walked back to Sophie’s lodgings. She had dreaded the moment when Fabien would find her, but now she felt calm. No more agonising over impossible choices; her fate had passed into his hands, and it surprised her she didn’t feel afraid. She knew what Fabien was capable of doing, but she also knew that anything he subjected her to, he would not do out of malice or cruel pleasure. Now when the shock of being so suddenly seized at the bridge had abated, she felt strangely happy to see Fabien again, no matter what it meant for her.

To her surprise there was only Fabien’s black horse tied outside the house; he had come alone and not in the company of his men.

Back inside, the room she had lived in for the past weeks looked even more dingy and small than it had looked when she had left it. Despite Fabien’s simple clothes and travel-stained cloak, he still looked graceful and neat; a reminder of the well-ordered world Sophie had left. Fabien helped her remove her cloak before he threw his own mantle and gloves down on her bed. He looked around her shabby room with a disdain mirroring her own.

“This is hardly a room suitable for your station.”

“Once you would have said it was too good for the daughter of a traitor.” Sophie turned and looked Fabien straight in the face. “And I think you agree it’s much too grand for a woman who has killed her husband.”

Fabien only shrugged. “Cassel was strangled. I saw the marks on his throats, and they were too large for your small fingers.”

“But he was dying! He wouldn’t have been so weak if I had not done what I did!”

“He was an old man, and Thomas was young and fit. Cassel may have been too strong for you, but never for a man young enough to be his son.”

Sophie walked up to Fabien, frustration making her steps short and quick. “Why won’t you admit to the truth? You know very well I poisoned my husband. Why do you refuse to acknowledge it? You, of all people, should be happy to drag me to the execution block as soon as you found out. Put me where I belong.”

Fabien winced at this onslaught of words. “Because it shouldn’t have been you who killed Cassel. I should have done it. I know what he was, I knew what he was capable of. And I still left you to deal with him alone. I told myself he might be kinder to you. I hoped he would. You are lovely and kind- everyone warms to you, and I thought he might too.”

He paused, the look on his face almost apprehensive. “But then I heard what you told Claudine, and I knew I had only deluded myself. And by then I was banished from court and useless to you.”

Sophie froze. She could feel cold sweat on her brow, numbness spreading throughout her body.

“You heard?” she whispered. She remembered Fabien’s anger when she was leaving Claudine’s house. Oh, he had been angry at her, but not for the reason she had thought. This was so much worse. For a moment Sophie thought she would faint, she staggered blindly towards a chair and sat down before her knees gave way. Her stomach clenched, sending a wave of nausea through her and she had to swallow several times before being able to speak again.

“You knew? How can you stand to be here with me? How can you bear to even look at me.” Sophie buried her head in her hands. “You must find me so disgusting!”

Sophie could hear Fabien’s steps as he approached her, and she shrank back in her chair, certain he would yank her up to her feet and shake her, but nothing happened.

“Sophie, I-”

“Oh, please, leave me alone. I never wanted you to know. No one was to know; only Claudine. All the things he made me do; you must find me repulsive to even look at.”

“Sophie, why would I?”

But Sophie was too distressed to listen. “No one must ever know. Can’t you see? Thomas wouldn’t have wanted to touch me if he had. No man could.”

“Look at me!” A tone of command crept into Fabien’s voice, and Sophie automatically obeyed and raised her head. Tears filled her eyes and Fabien was only a blur in front of her.

“Why would you think I find you disgusting when none of it was your fault?

“Can’t you see? It must be something wrong with me. Benoit who didn’t want me because I was useless. Cassel, who did, was a monster and then Gaston wanted me and he was vile too. Like they saw I was worth nothing more. I thought Thomas was a good man, but he was a spy and a murderer. There must be something in me which makes it impossible for a good man to love me. And I can’t love anyone back. I tried so hard for Thomas, but I couldn’t. My heart is cold, and my body too- cold and useless.”

“It’s not true. They have done cruel things to you, but none of the blame belongs to you.”

”I don’t believe you. Then tell me why no good man ever loves me? A man like you. It couldn’t happen. You would never love someone like me.”

“How could I ever believe you would welcome my love? I never thought it possible. And even more unimaginable you could gift your love to me.”

“But I can. I do.”

When it dawned on Sophie what she had told him, her hand flew to her mouth, too late to make the words unsaid. She watched Fabien in alarm, but he only looked a little sad. Before he could respond to her, there was a sharp knock on the door and then Sophie’s landlady burst in. There was a look on her face of malicious glee, quickly transformed to surprise when she saw Sophie’s stricken face. She had never made any secret she believed Sophie to be waiting for her lover, and now Sophie thought she had planned to catch two immoral lovers in the act. Buy Fabien stalked toward her, and the old lady started to look like she wished she had stayed away.

“I was just about to call you,” Fabien said. ”This room is dismal, and Madame wants her sheets changed to the best your house can provide. And a meal as soon as you can serve it. A good meal- it is clear to me you have not fed your guest properly.”

“I’ve given Madame what she has paid for,” the landlady muttered, but Fabien gave her his best menacing stare, and she quickly added. “The very best Sir, right away.”

She disappeared with a haste which almost made Sophie smile despite it all. Fabien turned back to her.

“It’s too late to travel today. I need to get my horse properly stabled for tonight.”

Sophie rose, the interruption had given her a little time to compose herself. “You are not afraid I will try to run away again?”

A ghost of a smile flickered over Fabien’s face.

“Not anymore,” he said before he left.


	6. Sophie and Fabien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but I decided to cut it in two, as the next one will contain a sex scene. If you rather not read that, you can read this and then jump the next chapter without losing any of the plot.

When the door closed after Fabien, the sudden fear seized Sophie that he would not stable his horse. Instead, she could easily picture, he would sit up and ride away, abandon her to whatever fate a moneyless girl among strangers could await. Breathless, she ran to the window, but only saw Fabien untying his horse and then leading it toward a nearby inn where Sophie’s dwindling purse still paid for her own horse’s upkeep. Only then did she remember Fabien had left his mantle and gloves with her; he wouldn’t go without his clothes.

Feeling a little calmer Sophie washed her face and arranged her hair which the day had left much too tangled for her liking. She looked into her small mirror, turning her head this way and that as she scrutinized her features. Her adventures had left dark smudges under her eyes, and in the hollow of her cheeks, making her look too haggard for her liking. Sophie pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to bring colour to her face, and then guiltily stopped. What did Fabien care of what she looked like after all?

Her landlady did not reappear, but the maid turned up to change the sheets, and by the time Fabien returned she was busily fetching trays and plates for the best meal Sophie had seen since she left Versailles. Despite this, she didn’t feel hungry, and she couldn’t eat much. There was too much on her mind to find an appetite. She looked at Fabien at the other side of the table. He was taciturn under the best of circumstances, now he seemed even less inclined than usual to speak, but Sophie found the silence almost unbearable. She gave him a quick glance from under her lashes. He did not seem very hungry himself, but his face gave away nothing of what was on his mind, and Sophie wondered what he made of her earlier confession. If he wasn’t angry or sick of her, then what was he feeling now?

Abruptly Beatrice’s face rose in her mind. What had Fabien felt for her? Had he loved her mother? Sophie couldn’t believe so. Beatrice had been very attractive; beautiful and charming, but there had been a cruel streak to her character which had made her hard to love, even, sometimes, for her daughter. And she had possessed none of the qualities Sophie knew Fabien truly admired, and whatever he had felt before Beatrice tried to kill him, Sophie didn’t believe it was love. Not like Claudine; when it came to her, Sophie was sure Fabien had been in love. And Claudine had deserved it.

Feeling the need to change the direction of her thoughts, Sophie abruptly spoke. “Do you think the King will forgive me?”

Fabien thought about it for a while. “I think it’s likely. The Princess will speak for you, and so will I. And you are not accused of any crime. I told the King you had been seduced by Thomas and fled out of fear of being blamed, and not by any guilt of your own.”

He looked at her directly. “As is the truth.”

Sophie looked down on her plate. It was clear she would never be accused of the crime she had really committed, not when Fabien was so determined to protect her. Soon, perhaps, she would be back to her old life. Filled with clothes, balls, gossip, and flirtations; until the King decided to marry her off to someone else. A shudder went through her at the thought of another unwanted marriage, but she would have to endure. And, after all, there could be no man as vile as Cassel. But she would never be allowed to choose for herself, and it was not her wishes which would be fulfilled.

The meal proceeded in silence and no one spoke until the maid had cleared away the mostly untouched food. Fabien rose, and Sophie rose with him. A thought had slowly formed in her mind, it both horrified and excited her, but she was not ready to speak out yet, and now she was afraid Fabien would leave too soon.

“Where will you sleep tonight?”

“In the stable. It’s warm enough, and near to here.”

He picked up his mantle; he was ready to leave, and there would be no more chances for Sophie to speak. So when he turned towards the door she stepped after him, stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest to stop him from leaving.

“Stay with me tonight instead.”

Fabien went very still. “What?”

“I’m not trying to bribe you. Tomorrow I will follow you back to Versailles, and I will go willingly. But I’m tired of being afraid and alone. I only want to know how it feels to be with someone you are not afraid of. I may never have that chance again; you know I may not survive if I don’t get the King’s forgiveness. I’m not asking for you to love me, Fabien. Just pretend you want me a little, just tonight.”

Fabien frowned and Sophie instantly regretted her words. They were rash and desperate, and her husband had taught her well of what speaking in haste may entail for her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said this. I know you cannot want me.”

She took a step back, but Fabien caught her hand before she could move away.

“I don’t need to pretend to want you, Sophie. You have held my respect and admiration for a very long time. Your intelligence, your courage, oh yes, your beauty too; you are so easy to desire. But you have to understand you were always unattainable for me.

“Because of who I am,” Sophie said bitterly.

“No, because of who I am. I never dared to imagine you would care for me. By any rights, you should hate me.”

Fabien was still holding her hand. Had he moved? Had she? Suddenly they were standing so much closer. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and the small gesture sent a wave of warmth through her.

”I did once, but it was a long time ago.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Because you are true. The only honest man in Versailles. You never lied to me, even when the truth hurt. You let me stay-”

”Only because I could use you.”

”Everyone I have ever known has used me. You were the only one sincere about it. And you were the only one who tried to protect me in return.”

”And failed.”

”It doesn’t matter.” Sophie took a little step closer to him, just a fraction, but now when she looked up his face was so close they almost touched. “Only tonight matter now. Do you want to stay with me, Fabien?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, Sophie thought he would pull away, but when he opened them again, there was a fire in them she had always known was there, but never thought could burn for her. Now its intensity made the tingling warmth his touch had brought, flare up inside her.

“More than anything.”


	7. Sophie and Fabien, continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Writing smut is hard work. Hope you enjoy it! And if you don’t you can safely skip this chapter without losing any of the plot.

Sophie smiled up at Fabien, breathless over this new turn of events. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from her hasty proposal; if not anger, then most likely indifferent rejection, and certainly not this ardent admission of desire. Fabien touched her face, then cupped her chin as he leaned down to kiss her. It was a gentle kiss, but there was an urgency underneath which caused both butterflies to flutter inside Sophie at the same time it fuelled her own desire. She had never allowed herself to acknowledge in full how much she wanted Fabien, but now it seemed it focused her whole being on him. Inside her stiff bodice, her nipples hardened and chafed against the fabric, and a sweet ache was growing low in her belly.

Fabien unlaced her gown, doing a much more efficient work than her maid ever had. The heavy fabric fell to the floor, followed by her petticoats, and Sophie stood only in her chemise. Fabien took a step back to remove his coat and waistcoat and feeling a little shy, Sophie half turned away and pulled the pins out of her hair. The moment the heavy coils of hair were loosened always felt like a moment of freedom; her hair flowing down her back reminding her she had, all day, held her head in a certain angle to counteract the weight of her hair. He kissed her again, his hands threading through her hair, caressing it, as the kiss grew deeper. Pressed against his body with only fine linen separating them, the butterflies in Sophie grew, for a moment overpowering her lust.

She had told Fabien she wanted a night when she wasn’t afraid; she was still terrified. Not of Fabien, but of her own reactions. When Thomas had caressed her she had not been unwilling; she had enjoyed his touch, but only up to a point. There was always something Thomas did; a caress too rough, or his body too crushingly heavy on top of her, and all desire Sophie felt went cold. The pain Cassel had inflicted on her was still present with Thomas if not as intense. Thomas never knew their lovemaking had only been bearable to Sophie because she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. It had slowly grown better, and she had hoped she would learn to enjoy herself fully, given time, but there had never been time. Now she had invited Fabien to her bed, and she feared the same thing would happen again, even though she wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life.

As if Fabien had read her thoughts, or perhaps because he was used to people who were scared, paused.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

And she knew. Fabien, who was more capable of inflicting suffering than anyone else, had never wanted to harm her.

“Then sit down.”

Sophie sat on the edge of her bed, and Fabien kneeled down in front of her, removing first her shoes, and then her stockings. It was strange to see him in a position of supplication; the sense of intimidation his presence generally evoked diminished, and Sophie relaxed a little.

His fingers caressed her legs, a slow dance which caused her to shiver. Then his hands moved higher, gripping her hips and pulling her a little closer to him. He kissed the inside of one of her thighs, then another, each new kiss a little bit higher up. It was, Sophie found, suddenly hard to breathe. When he reached the apex of her legs, every muscle in Sophie’s body seem to lose all function, and she sank back on the bed, her legs parting even more. It had never occurred to her that this was something a man could do. There was enough force in the caresses Fabien’s mouth and tongue bestowed on her to send her into a deeper state of arousal, but it was a gentle touch too. All at once her entire world revolved around her vulva. It felt like every heartbeat sent heat away from it, throughout her body, only to return and pool back, feeling increasingly more intense. Sophie could feel fingers joining Fabien’s mouth and the one finger slipped inside her. Sophie involuntary tensed, but there was no pain, only a strong feeling of euphoria. Then another finger joined the first, pressing up and somehow the pressure paired with the caresses merged into a pulsating pleasure which caused Sophie to cry out loud.

Fabien withdrew to remove the rest of his clothes, and Sophie regained enough of her senses to move into the bed completely. She felt a twinge of disappointment that this, unexpectedly wonderful, part of lovemaking was over. For what Fabien had given her she would gladly endure the rest; she even thought she might enjoy it more than she ever had before, but the thought of a heavy body on top of her, holding her down still caused a prickle of panic to run through her. But when he climbed into bed, he only lay down beside her.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie asked, suddenly convinced she had done something which displeased him. She rolled over on her side so she could look at him, and Fabien mirrored her movements so he could kiss her again.

“Nothing is wrong.”

Fabien stroke her body, a calming gesture at first, but then his hands grow more eager, touching her breasts in a way which made Sophie gasp. His body pressed into hers and she could feel with no doubt he wanted her. He shifted again, his arms around her, so she rolled with him and she found herself straddling him.

At first, Sophie didn’t understand what he wanted her to do, but then it dawned on her. She raised herself slightly, Fabien’s manhood pressing urgently against her. She angled her hips, and he was inside her. It was strange to move as she liked; Sophie sank down a fraction, only to raise herself up again. The pain she expected didn’t come, and she slowly moved again, allowing more of Fabien inside her, and to her surprise, it only felt good. A little more daring she sped up, gyrating her hips at a faster pace until he was fully sheathed inside her. And it still didn’t hurt; the feeling of being filled only brought pleasure.

Sophie looked down on Fabien’s body displayed in front of her. He was beautiful, she thought, lean muscles under taut skin. Beautiful even with the marks of a hard life upon him; long healed scars on his abdomen and chest as well as many minor ones. A sudden feeling of freedom filled Sophie. Fabien could, she knew, do anything he wanted to her, and she could not stop him. But he didn’t; for all the violence she knew was within him, here and now he had submitted all his strength and power to her.

The room felt hot, and her long chemise tangled around her legs, hindering Sophie to move as she wanted. She pulled it over her head and Fabien’s eyes widened at the sight of her naked body, and his hips moved more insistently to meet her’s. His hands caressed her body, and Sophie moved faster, then his hands came to rest on her hips; not to hold her down but to support. She leaned forward, her hands on each side of his head and her long hair fell around them, enclosing them in a tiny world, made only for them. She kissed him, and as she did so Sophie could feel him tense and shudder, his hands briefly tightened around her to hold her still as he reached his own climax.

For several minutes they remained like that, perfectly still as their breathing slowly returned to normal. When Sophie shifted to lay down, Fabien put his arms around her, but instead of making her feel trapped, she only felt safe. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, looking happier than she had ever seen him before. Afraid of speaking lest she would destroy the moment by saying the wrong thing, Sophie snuggled closer to his chest, and, exhausted by a day filled with emotions, fell asleep.

During the night, she woke up to find the bed empty. Fabien was standing by the window, staring out into the night. Sophie watched him in silence, unsure if she should speak to him, or not. But before she decided he came back, silently slipping in between the sheets and pulling her close to him, and Sophie soon slept again.

She dreamt no nightmares that night.


	8. Furtherance

When Sophie woke up the next morning her first reaction was amazement over how light-hearted she felt. Then she remembered the night before, and when she looked up, she could see Fabien getting dressed in front of the fireplace. She closed her eyes again, wanting to savor her memories before she had to get up and face the day. It had been a glorious night, much better than she had ever dared to hope, and she wished it could have been possible to stay a little longer, just the two of them. But it was Fabien’s duty to take her to Versailles, and her only choice was to follow him. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to stall the return; not after her promise to go back willingly.

So Sophie got up from the bed, dressed and packed her few belongings. Neither she nor Fabien said anything of importance; merely polite phrases concerning their departure. She thought he seemed unusually pensive, but then she had a lot on her mind too. To her surprise, she didn’t found their departure as dreadful as she had thought. Her future at Versailles was uncertain, but now she knew Fabien would do his best to protect her. And if he failed, he would not let her suffer.

For a few hours they rode in silence, but when they reached a crossroads by mid-morning, Fabien reined in his horse to a halt.

“Which way are we going? Sophie asked after a moment.

Fabien gave her a sidelong glance. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He pointed to the left. “That’s the road for the Duchess de Cassel. It will take her to Versailles.”

The odd wording made Sophie frown. It was a statement which begged another question. “And who would travel on the other road?”

Fabien glanced at her again, his face unreadable.

“People of no importance to the crown.” He hesitated for a moment before he continued. “Like an architect’s daughter called Sophie Toutin.”

Something stirred inside Sophie, a feeling she couldn’t name. Her mother had refused to tell her their real name, but Fabien would make it his business to find out. 

“I guess such a woman would have no reason to come to court.”

“No, never. No matter how beautiful and accomplished she is.”

Sophie could name the feeling now, unexpected as it was; it was a small glimpse of hope. “And where would she go, this architects daughter of no importance?”

“Only a few miles at first, to a church, where she could be wed. Then half a day further to a convent to wait for her husband while he put his affairs in order.”

“And who would she marry?” She knew the answer now, but she still needed to hear Fabien say it.

“A man who had worked hard and saved his pennies. Who has saved enough for a comfortable life in a small town somewhere.”

It was suddenly so hard to breathe. Only a few minutes ago Sophie’s destiny had been decided; and what she wanted of no significance. And now a life she had never dared to think about was within her reach.

“You would do that for me? Leave Versailles and the King? All your duties?”

“I was prepared to do it for Claudine.”

“But you loved her.”

Fabien finally looked straight at her. “I did. But I have found love has more than one face. I will go with you, Sophie, whichever road you go.”

He looked away again, and for the first time, it occurred to Sophie that even the indomitable Fabien Marchal may feel a little afraid at times. He would not have made her this offer if he didn’t want it, but he couldn’t be sure of her answer.

It was both easy and difficult to decide. Sophie had loved Versailles from her first day there, with all its beauty and intrigue, but she had also been its captive. If she returned to the King’s good graces she would once again be a prisoner subjected to the whims of other people. But it was a life she knew well, and she knew how to navigate the pitfalls and how to best make use of the glitter and artifice.

She loved Fabien, and, it seemed, Fabien loved her too. But they had a past which would always follow them, no matter what they did. Her mother, her husband, her lover, all dead, and all still haunting her, and no doubt also Fabien, with memories. And she knew nothing of life beyond the court. A comfortable life would still differ greatly from the never-ending luxury of Versailles, and Sophie had learned nothing more practical than fine sewing. But she would be free, and she would be with Fabien; surely they could build a life together? To have a future where they could be happy and safe. The possibility of children rose in her mind; children who wouldn’t have to be afraid of their father.

Sophie tried to speak, but she only managed to say Fabien’s name before her voice refused to obey her. Instead, she dug her heels into her horse, allowing it to take the first steps along the right path. Her horse whinnied, and she leaned forward, allowing it to break into a gallop. As if their two minds were one, Fabien’s black horse followed her white without missing a step. The wind in Sophie’s face smelled fresh and sweet like a promise, and soon they had left the crossroads and the road to Versailles far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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